


all i want for christmas is a real good tan

by givebackmylifecas



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Smut, hardly any, like just a tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas
Summary: Martín leans in for a kiss and Andrés allows it for the briefest moment before pushing him away.“Maybe when it’s not quite so hot though?” he says and Martín scowls for a moment.He climbs off Andrés’ lap with a nod. “Of course, you’re right – it’s really much, much too hot.”He bends down for his glass and the next thing Andrés knows, there’s horrifically cold ice cubes cascading down the heated skin of his bare chest and landing in his lap.“You son of a bitch!” Andrés exclaims angrily. “It’s fucking Christmas, you can’t do that to me.”
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	all i want for christmas is a real good tan

**Author's Note:**

> don't @ me, i wrote this in thirty minutes bc i was sad
> 
> fic title from the song of the same name by kenny chesney

“It doesn’t quite feel right, does it?” Andrés asks, fanning himself with his hat.

Martín doesn’t acknowledge him beyond a grunt, eyes shut behind his sunglasses. Andrés leans over and pokes his bare waist, right in what he knows to be Martín’s ticklish spot. True to form, Martín squirms and turns his head to scowl at Andrés.

“What?” he demands, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Christmas,” Andrés repeats. “It doesn’t feel right to be celebrating it when it’s so warm, does it?”

Martín shrugs, relaxing back into his sun lounger. “Speak for yourself. All of my Christmases have been warm – except for the ones where you dragged me to the arse end of butt-fuck nowhere.”

“That’s Lapland and the Swiss Alps to you,” Andrés says, affronted. “Snow is part of Christmas.”

“Not mine,” Martín insists. "Argentina is warm in December."

Andrés sighs. “You’re incorrigible - is it too much to ask that I spend Christmas in front of a fire, without sunburn?”

Martín snorts a laugh and reaches for his drink – something he insisted was a festive cocktail because it was red, but really just contained a lot of vodka and cinnamon. “Okay, first of all you’re the one who insisted we take part in the biggest heist ever seen and then decided we move to a literal deserted island and secondly, maybe you should have put on sun cream like I told you to.”

“I don't like the greasiness on my hands and you said you wouldn’t help me put it on!” Andrés says huffily.

“I had my hands full!”

“You were eating cookies!”

Martín sniggers. “Yeah and if I’d put sun cream on you then you’d have been covered in cookie crumbs.”

“I’d have preferred that over the back of my neck looking like a freshly cooked lobster!”

Martín sighs and drains his drink, placing the glass in the sand, still half-filled with ice cubes and the watery dregs of his cocktail. He slides off his lounger and swings one leg over Andrés’, planting himself heavily on the other man’s thighs.

“Andrés, mi vida, mi angel navideño, mi amor, I’m very, very sorry for not helping you put on sun cream yesterday,” he says faux-seriously and Andrés’ lips twitch involuntarily as he tries not to smile. “It really was an egregious transgression – is there any way you can find it in you to forgive me?”

“Hmm,” Andrés takes a moment to pretend to think, even as his hands sneak up across the tops of Martín’s thighs to settle on his hips. “It really was very rude of you, but I’m sure I can think of a few ways for you to make it up to me.”

“I’m sure you can,” Martín purrs and shifts closer.

Andrés’ grin widens, his teeth a bright white against his tanned skin. Martín leans in for a kiss and Andrés allows it for the briefest moment before pushing him away.

“Maybe when it’s not quite so hot though?” he says and Martín scowls for a moment, before his face smooths out into an oddly blank expression.

He climbs off Andrés’ lap with a nod. “Of course, you’re right – it’s really much, much too hot.”

He bends down for his glass and the next thing Andrés knows, there’s horrifically cold ice cubes cascading down the heated skin of his bare chest and landing in his lap. He leaps to his feet with a shout as Martín cackles maniacally beside him, bent double in the sand with how hard he’s laughing.

“You son of a bitch!” Andrés exclaims angrily. “It’s fucking Christmas, you can’t do that to me.”

“You wanted a colder Christmas!” Martín chokes out, still laughing.

Andrés shakes his head. “I hate you,” he declares.

Martín pouts. “But I was just trying to cool you down.”

“Sure, you’re a real bleeding heart,” Andrés says, rolling his eyes.

“Many people have been known to say that about me,” Martín agrees, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at Andrés over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Name one person.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Maybe later.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Martín promises and they smirk at each other.

“Well you succeeded in getting me sticky,” Andrés complains, gesturing at the traces of Martín’s overly sweet drink drying on his chest. “You might as well help me clean up.”

Martín’s eyes narrow. “Do you mean that in a fun way, or in the way that means I have to steam your linen suits for a week?”

Andrés smirks. “What do you think?”

“I think that pouring ice-cubes on you was my best idea this month,” Martín says as he scrambles to his feet, grabbing Andrés’ outstretched hand.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be rewarding you for bad behaviour,” Andrés muses, but Martín is already dragging him to the house.

Inside, the white marble feels cool under his feet and Andrés shivers just a little in the air conditioning.

“As if you’ve ever punished me for any sort of behaviour – good or bad,” Martín scoffs.

“Are you saying I spoil you?” Andrés teases, letting Martín push him down onto the sofa.

Martín rolls his eyes as he steps out of his shorts. “I’m saying you need to get your clothes off or I’m going to go shower by myself.”

It’s an empty threat, he’s already unbuttoning Andrés’ shorts and gesturing for him to lift his hips before he finishes speaking. Andrés aids him just enough to shimmy the thin fabric down over his hips and tries not to frown when Martín just flings them over his shoulder.

“Those are going to crease, you know.”

Martín sighs from where he’s kneeling in front of him and very deliberately leans forward to bite the inside of Andrés’ thigh, just above his right knee. “You, mi amor, are sounding very much like someone who doesn’t want a Christmas blowjob.”

Andrés smirks at him. “And how exactly does a Christmas blowjob differ from a normal one? Are you going to put on a Santa hat? Maybe some antlers?”

Martín scowls and leans forward to bite him again – this time just above his hipbone. “How about, you shut the fuck up or you’ll get to spend time alone with your hand for Christmas,” he mumbles against Andrés’ skin, before getting distracted and tracing the sugary stains from his drink with his tongue.

“Now that really would be a travesty, although -” Andrés starts to say, before abandoning his attempts at speech when Martín shoots him a wicked grin and goes to swallow him down in a single, practised move.

-

“Is that all you’re getting me for Christmas?” Andrés asks later, patting Martín’s side and earning himself a sharp pinch to the skin above his hip.

“You think you deserve more than that?” Martín teases.

Andrés smirks. “Probably not. Do you want to know what I got you?”

Martín shrugs. “I already know.”

“Do you?” Andrés asks surprised.

“Yup, you know you really shouldn’t hide a ring box in a sock drawer that we both share.”

Andrés groans. “But you never wear socks on the island.”

Martín kisses him consolingly. “Yes, but I help you put yours away. Anyway, if and when you get around to asking, it’s a yes.”

“It is?” Andrés asks, a little thrown by his proposal being turned around on him.

“Of course,” Martín says, rolling his eyes fondly.

He can’t quite help but feel a little relieved. “Do I even need to ask you, then?”

Martín peels himself up and off Andrés just to fix him with an affronted glare. “Yes, because when people ask how we got engaged, this is not the story I’m telling them.”

“Alright then, you can expect a proposal imminently,” Andrés promises.

“Wait till I’ve showered,” Martín orders. “And brushed my teeth.”

“Whatever you want, mi amor,” Andrés acquiesces. “It’s your Christmas present after all.”

Martín smiles, a lot softer than before and pecks his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Andrés.”

“Merry Christmas, Martín.”

**Author's Note:**

> blegh idk what this was but i regret it already, anyway pls comment/kudos/yell at me on on tumblr ([@hefellfordean](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com)) or twitter ([@angstypalermo](https://twitter.com/angstypalermo))


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